Among the counting of forevers,
years, photographs
Reminders
It is love that only remembers
Anyways
Beyond the damage
Or the seasons,
The body or disdain
The distance
or the longing
The heart, or the age
It is love that only remembers,
Anyways
But is that, this really love?
The mind that says “yes”
For perhaps it is only a semblance
Of a face that never fades.
But in the end
Like in the beginning
It is love that only remembers
Anyways
And that is all there truly is.
______________
~ R.M. Engelhardt
R.M. ENGELHARDT 